Recently, she made her fourth stop at the church to pick up produce for her family of five. She's the only one working, and she's taking classes at San Antonio College in preparation for a nursing program. Their struggles began when her husband was laid off and they became a one-income family.

She sat inside the church foyer, eyes welling with tears as she spoke of what the food pantry has meant to her family, especially her 11-year-old boy and 3-year-old girl.

“It helps a lot,” Sierra, 27, said, as volunteer Alan Perkins arrived with her groceries. “(Without it) I think we wouldn't have food; it's just tough.”

There seems to be a pervasive idea that today's society is filled with welfare cheats and people stocking up on pricey snacks with their Lone Star cards, but a visit to one of the city's food pantries quickly dispels that notion.

Throughout San Antonio, the faces of hunger come in all ages and colors.

It's the boy riding his bike two miles to get a meal after school to get him through the night. It's a girl who saves a snack from her school's reduced meal program for her little brother at home. It's the elderly widow who drives a rusting car to a church for free groceries. It's a retiree struggling to pay bills and not having enough left for food. It's the single father who lost his job and is trying to get milk for his two toddlers.

All kinds of studies back up that anecdotal evidence.

One in four children and one in five adults live in households where they aren't sure where their next meal will come from, several reports show. Across Bexar County, it's estimated nearly 300,000 people live in food-insecure homes.

But there are people trying to do something about the problem.

The Alamo Heights church is part of a coalition of nonprofits, city services and volunteers whose mission is combating hunger. The church is aligned with the San Antonio Food Bank, 5200 W. Old U.S. 90, which serves 430 nonprofits that feed 46,000 people each week in Bexar County. Crops grown at the agency's 5.5 acre community garden are harvested by volunteers and the fresh produce is distributed to food pantries.

Eric Cooper, president and CEO of the food bank, said hunger can affect anyone.

“It's not a right or left issue, Democrat, Republican, it's a community issue,” Cooper said.

“The need is there,” Cooper said. “When it comes to public benefits, there's a social stigma. Some feel ashamed, as if their dignity was stripped away. The fact that they're there, asking for help, means they've traveled far to get there.”

Sierra's family was the last client at the Alamo Heights church on a recent Tuesday. Within two hours and seven minutes, the pantry had given out its allowance for the day, serving 24 families. Pantry director Sara Warren said a closed sign was taped to the front door after all 24 received their allotted groceries.

Warren knows exactly what's stored in the pantry and what she'll need for the coming weeks for her clients, hence the strict limits.

“You have to understand where people are coming from; every story is just a little different. It's an increasing phenomenon,” Warren said. “They've learned to stretch a dollar, but sometimes when you stretch a dollar, it squeaks.”

The churches choir director is one of the pantry volunteers.

Barbara Perkins, 64, chose the ministry to give back to the community. She's seen a range of people come through the line, including grandmothers raising grandchildren, single people with disabilities, older couples and the homeless.

“They're just as grateful as they can be,” she said. “It's something that makes you feel good in your heart.”